So I've neglected blogging about the actual flight of my Vegas trip...but I thought it was funny (not ha ha funny but more like that shouldn't have happened funny) that my middle brother informed me that on his way flying back to the East Coast that his plane was struck by lightning in mid air.
Now...barring the odds and the fact that modern airplanes are built for just such an incidence, I have no way to empathize with my brother. I don't like flying. Take that times about 100 and that's him. He detests flying. I can't fathom for a second that he was in a plane that actually got bolted with that much electricity.
The pisser (or grace) of it was they decided not to proceed on past their layover, so he got stuck in Chicago overnight. So not only did he get the longest flight of us three brothers, he also got struck by lightning, got to land in the "windy city" (although landing in the desert is equally as terrifying), and got to spend a night in a city with one of the highest gun related crimes in the US.
And to think I get grumpy when my bag doesn't hit the carousel in the first three minutes....sheesh.
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